


Pleasure House

by ezratherobat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Necrophilia, Nonbinary Character, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Slavery, Small dom, Stiletto Heels, Tags are subject to change!, Torture, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezratherobat/pseuds/ezratherobat
Summary: Waylon is sold into sex slavery and bought by a cruel and unhinged master named Nikolas.
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

Waylon shivered naked, kneeling on the stage, his hands bound behind his back with a rough rope, his cock having been teased into standing erect and aching. Hundreds of faceless eyes stared him down. His skull sat heavy on his shoulders, his head pounded, blackness clouded most of his vision, and his ears felt stuffed with cotton. The faceless eyes shouted number after number at him.

And then the numbers stopped.

Waylon gasped when a hot hand grabbed his shoulder. Hot against his freezing skin. More hot hands grabbed him away. He felt the pinch of a needle inserting into his arm.

*

Waylon woke, laying on his side on a sheet of cold steel, the smell of vomit filling his nose. The sound of heels on a stone floor approaching drove nails through his skull. When the footsteps stopped, Waylon forced his eyes open. His eyes focused on a pair of blurry legs. A silken voice spoke, “Let’s go home.”

*

Waylon woke up again. This time with his face pressed into a pillow and his naked body wrapped in blankets. He wriggled his arms out of the cocoon of blankets. His wrists were no longer bound but the scratches and red marks were still there.

“You gonna… get up?” Waylon’s heart froze at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Waylon sat up, the cool air of the room raised goosebumps across his bare chest. The room around him was pale pink and at his back were two dozen frilly and lacy pillows. In front of Waylon, sitting in a white ornate chair was an androgynous person with shoulder length black hair. They tilted their head to the side, a few tresses of black hair falling across their face. Between their small frame and pretty features they could almost pass for a doll… if it weren’t for the criss-crossing scars on their face. “Well? Are you gonna get up?”

“Who are you? Where am I?” Waylon glanced around nervously, to his left was a shelf of life-sized dolls. Feeling uneasy, Waylon turned back to the person.

“My name is Ren. You are in the Master’s bedroom, in the Master’s bed.” Ren spoke in an even, deadpan tone.

“The… Master…?” Waylon struggled to loosen the blankets cocooning him.

“Yes… You are his now, he bought you.” Ren gave Waylon a smile that didn’t reach their eyes or voice. “Don’t worry he is kind and good. You will love him.”

“Uh-huh…” Waylon looked around again for a window, skirting his eyes over the dolls. But the walls were solid.

Ren stood, smoothing out their ruffled white button-up and brown shorts, “Join us downstairs when you are ready to meet the Master.” Ren left the room, closing the door gently behind them, leaving Waylon alone.

The silence and the staring eyes of the dolls drove a needle of uneasiness through Waylon’s heart. He hugged his knees to his chest, naked under the blankets he felt vulnerable and exposed. With no knowledge of where he was, how he got there, or even what time it was he couldn’t help feeling like it wasn’t quite real… like it was all just a dream. He pinched the flesh of his forearm between his thumb and forefinger, digging his nails in til he drew blood, wincing. “Not a dream,” he muttered, licking the blood from under his nails and sighing. He rested his forehead against his knees and closed his eyes…

Waylon woke up again with his stomach growling and the room no different. The impossible silence filled him with unease and sweat slicked his skin. He threw the blanket off and stood. Shifting uncomfortably in his nakedness, he glanced towards the dresser topped with the life sized dolls. Waylon shuddered and decided against walking any closer to try and find clothes. Instead he just pulled a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around his waist. And, with a deep breath, he left the room behind him.

The minute he exited the room he could hear a strange rhythmic cracking sound wafting up the stairs to his left. With a sigh, Waylon headed down the stairs. The cracking sound got louder as he descended and soon he could make out voices.

“You’re such a worthless little shit! Where is he?” Each word was punctuated by another crack. Waylon gulped as he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a light pouring into the hall through large open doors. The sounds came from the room.

His heart hammering against his ribs, Waylon snuck up to the door, pressed his back against the wall, and peeked in. Waylon tried to stifle his sharp intake of breath with a hand to his mouth.

In the room was Ren, topless and on their knees. They faced Waylon, their face flushed and eyes heavy lidded. Standing over them was a pale person, wearing nothing but lacy black heels and large, sparkling diamond earrings. His perfect, porcelain skin was only marred by two crescent scars under his pecs and there seemed to be no hair on him besides that on his head. Even his vagina was clean shaven or, more likely, waxed. His short black hair framed a soft smile. Then his soft smile twisted as he raised a whip above his head and brought it down, strikings Ren’s back. Ren’s only reaction to the whip hitting them was to lurch forward slightly, their small breasts bouncing. The naked person raised the whip above his head again.

“No! Stop!” Waylon called out, stumbling into the room, barely managing to keep the sheet around his waist. The person complete his swing, his eyes on Waylon as the whip struck Ren. Waylon gulped as he tossed the whip aside. He stepped on Ren’s back, shoving them to the ground.

“I’m Nikolas. Welcome to my home.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you okay?” Waylon rushed to Ren, brushing past Nikolas. He dropped to his knees in front of Ren, lightly touching their shoulders.

Ren looked up, their hair falling across their face. “I’m fine.” The eye of theirs that Waylon could see was wide and somewhat confused. Then Waylon felt a sting on his bare back. A sting that turned into a blossom of pain. Waylon cried out and fell forward, twisting his torso so that he didn’t fall on top of Ren. Waylon landed on his back, the burning and stinging intensifying. Ren stared down at him, unmoving, through the curtain of their hair.

The sound of heels coming closer echoed in Waylon’s ears as he stared into Ren’s eyes, unable to look away.

Waylon felt the sheet around his waist being pulled away and with it his eyes were dragged away from Ren’s face. To Nikolas’ face.

Waylon felt a sharp pain in his crotch. Nikolas stared down his nose at Waylon. He pressed his heel into Waylon’s balls, “Don’t ignore me.” He pressed in. Waves of pain washed through Waylon and nausea came with it. Waylon’s breath came fast and short. Nikolas pressed in even harder, leaning down and gripping his chin, “You. Belong. To. Me. Now.”

Waylon’s chin slipped from Nikolas’ grip as he fell backward into unconsciousness.

*

Waylon woke up with a gasp, still aching and wanting to vomit. He glanced to his right. A dirty, cracked wall met his gaze. Not the same room he was in before… He turned to his left and screamed.

Dead eyes stared at him from a pale face framed by black hair. Then the dead eyes blinked.

“You’re awake.” Ren said, their tone even. They sat up with a stretch. The blanket drapped over both of them slipped, revealing their pale, thin, naked form. Waylon averted his eyes, blushing, and scooted away from Ren on the bed. Ren leaned in towards Waylon, putting a hand on Waylon’s shoulder, their cold hand sending shivers through Waylon. “Are you alright? Master apologizes for being so rough with you so soon. But you angered him.” Waylon’s eyes wandered back to Ren’s body, this time looking beyond their exposed breasts to see the countless scars marring their skin, some extremely fresh.

“Never mind all that, are you okay?” Waylon shrugged Ren’s hand off his shoulder, taking it in both of his hands instead. It was then that Waylon noticed just how  _ small  _ Ren was. Their wrist seemed no thicker than two of his fingers.

Ren cocked their head to the side, “I’m fine.” They say it like it’s only natural.

Waylon arranged his legs under him, sitting cross-legged. “Can you tell me where I am? And why?”

Ren gently pulled their hand from Waylon’s, then placed both of their hands on Waylon’s cheeks. Their icy fingertips chilled Waylon to the bone as they stared wide-eyed and blankly into Waylon’s eyes.

“You’re in my room. Because we haven’t finished preparing a room for you and Master didn’t want you sleeping in his bed again.”

_ So the room with the creepy dolls is his. _ “That’s not what I mmf-” Waylon let out a strangled sound of surprise as Ren pulled his head into their chest.

Waylon cheeks burned, warming Ren’s skin as his breath rolled across their bare breasts. “You belong to Master now, so you don’t need to worry about anything ever again.”


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Ren’s words, or perhaps because of them, Waylon was panicking.

While Waylon’s ear was pressed to Ren’s chest his own heart pounding out of control was the only one he could hear. “How… How did this happen?” Tears welled in Waylon’s blue eyes.

How long ago was it that he was just eating dinner in his apartment with his cats and dog? Wait who was feeding Blue, Belle, and Tulip?

He sat up, pulling away from Ren, “I have to get home.”

“This is your home now.”

“No, you don’t understand! I need to feed my dog and cats.”

“I don’t think you understand.” The sound of a new voice ripped through Waylon. His body frozen, he only turned his head to see the figure leaning against the door frame. The woman standing there was tan, with shoulder-length wavy brown hair, wearing a white dress, her arms crossed, a soft smile on her lips. She pushed off from the door frame, dropping her arms to her side and walking towards the bed.

“Who are you?” Waylon asked, mouth dry.

“I’m Rowan.”

“What-” Rowan gave him a pitying look and Waylon felt his jaw lock up, unable to speak. Waylon followed her with his eyes, his head, his body as she walked to his side of the bed.

“You belong to Nikolas now. I’m sorry to tell you but you aren’t going anywhere.” Rowan grabbed Waylon’s face, her warm hands on his cheeks a contrast to Ren’s corpse-like skin. She slid her fingers into his hair and pulled him towards her. He went easily. “Now, would you please come with me, honey?” She asked with a soft, gentle voice, “I’ll take you to your room.”

Waylon swallowed, though his mouth was still dry. He followed Rowan’s gentle pull, standing up from the bed. She let his face go, taking his hand instead, warm and kind… And then he noticed the breeze.

He didn’t follow as she started towards the door. She turned back. “Uhm, do you have any, uh, clothes?” Waylon asked, ears burning as he struggled to cover himself with his one free hand.

Rowan shook her head slowly, “Sorry honey, we don’t have anything that would fit you. Come along now.” She turned back to the door and tugged him forward.

Waylon glanced back as he was lead through the door, back at Ren. He let out a small gasp and his heart skipped a beat. Ren’s half of the bed was bright red with their blood, Waylon could even see hints at the fresh wounds on their back at their sides. Still they just stared forward, seeming only by coincidence to look Waylon’s direction. “Are they okay?” Rowan just nodded and didn’t look back or stop walking and soon Waylon couldn’t see Ren anymore.

The hallways around him looked exactly the same as the one’s before. A pit formed in his stomach as he realized finding his way out might be quite difficult.

He glanced down at his hand, still in Rowan’s and blushed, “This room we are going to is… mine?”

“Yes.” Rowan looks back to smile at him.

“Why do I have my own room?”

“This house is big and Nikolas is alone besides us and the servants. And he wants his toys at least somewhat happy.”

“Toys?”

Her smile turned to a look of pity, “what else did you think we were?” Waylon didn’t answer, just looked down at their linked hands.

After walking for a few minutes, passing door after door, Rowan finally stopped. Waylon was barely able to stop himself from walking into her.

“Here you are. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Rowan dropped Waylon’s hand and he instantly missed the warmth. “Ren or I will come get you for dinner. Please stay in your room until then.”

With a smile and a wave she walked away, leaving Waylon alone in front of the door.

Waylon expected the room to be barren and plain, but what greeted him was a room draped in pastel colors and a bed piled high with pillows. The sunlight filtered through the curtains gave everything a soft glow.

Waylon threw himself on the bed, burying his face in one of the many pillows. The door clicked shut behind him and he let himself cry into the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

When Waylon cried out all the tears he had inside him, he flipped over onto his back. He licked his chapped lips and squinted at the ceiling above him, head pounding.

For a few long minutes Waylon didn’t move, lost in thought. There was no way out of this house if he stayed in the room, but Rowan told him to stay put and he had a feeling it was for his own good.

With a groan Waylon sat up and looked around the room,  _ ‘his’ _ room. His eyes landed on the wardrobe. He’d almost adjusted to being naked. Almost. Waylon stood and walked to the wardrobe, throwing it open. Waylon pulled out a shirt and held it up to his chest. It looked like a child’s shirt against him, more suited for Ren or Nikolas’s slight frame than his broad and muscled one. With a sigh he put it back and inspected the other clothes. Finding all of them the same size, he closed the wardrobe and walked back to the bed, stealing a blanket and wrapping it around his waist and knotting it well.

Waylon sat back down on the bed, resting his elbows on his thighs and his chin in his hands. He had no idea when dinner would happen, no idea what time it was.. He hadn’t had any idea of what time it was since he first woken up in this house.

His stomach growled.  _ I hope dinner is soon… and edible. I can figure out a way out afterwards. _

Waylon’s thoughts wandered towards home. Tulip was probably waiting patiently by the door for him to get back. Blue and Belle were probably waiting by their food bowls, meowing for Waylon to feed them.  _ I need to get home. _

As he thought that a knock came at the door,  _ dinner, I guess.  _ “Coming.” Waylon sighed, standing up and walking to the door. He opened it without hesitation, expecting Rowan or maybe Ren.

But instead the one standing outside the door was Nikolas. Dressed this time in short black shorts, a white button up with loose sleeves, and a cravat. He still wore the heels and jewelry from before. And the same, soft terrifying smile.

Waylon was twice Nikolas’ size, in height and width, but the smaller man’s doll-like face shook him to his core and made him feel tiny. Nikolas cocked his head to the side. Waylon’s eyes were drawn to the dangling, sparkling earring in Nikolas’ ear as it rested against his neck. His eyes moved to Nikolas’ neck. So thin, just one of Waylon’s hands could fit around it all the way.

An easy way out. Right there.

Nikolas’ small, pink lips parted. “Tell me your name.” It wasn’t a question.

“Waylon.” Waylon didn’t take his eyes off Nikolas’ throat. His fingers twitched. Could he do it?

“Welcome home, Waylon.” Nikolas took a step forward. Waylon took a step back. “Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you… tonight.”

Waylon backed up more steps, Nikolas followed, the door closing behind him. “I’m sorry that we got off on the wrong foot, let us start over. My name is Nikolas. And I  _ own you.” _ Nikolas’ face morphed into an ugly expression of arrogance and cruelty.

Waylon stopped hesitating.

He grabbed Nikolas’ thin neck, wrapping his large right hand all the way around it, middle finger touching thumb. Feeling desperate and somehow numb, Waylon lifted Nikolas off the ground. His skin was even colder than Ren’s. He weighed nothing in Waylon’s hands. But he still managed to kick Waylon with impressive force, right between the legs.

Waylon let him go in his shock and pain but he didn’t let him go for long, grabbing his wrist and throwing him onto the bed. Waylon straddled Nikolas, sitting on Nikolas’ hips, one knee pinning down one of his arms and his left hand pinning Nikolas’ other wrist, while he gripped his throat again with his dominant hand.

Nikolas stared up at Waylon in anger but looked otherwise unfazed no matter how much pressure Waylon applied. “The longer you continue this the worse your night will be.”

Behind Waylon the door opened, “Waylon… Stop this.” It was Rowan’s voice. She wrapped her warm, gentle arms around Waylon’s shoulders. Waylon slackened. He stood up, staying in Rowan’s arms as he let up Nikolas.

Nikolas sat up, rubbing his throat. “I take back my words.” He fixed Waylon with a cold stare. “You will be hurt tonight.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner was awkward. Waylon sat in silence at the large table, covering in a gold tablecloth and more food than he normally eats in a week. Rowan and Ren sat on the far end of the table, eating calmly. Nikolas sat at the head of the table, insisting on having Waylon sit at his right hand side.

Waylon gazed longingly at the empty seat next to Rowan, wishing he was that far from Nikolas.

At first Waylon tried to ignore the food in front of him but his stomach was entirely empty and his mouth filled with saliva. It wasn’t like it was unsafe, all three of the others were eating it. And it smelled so good… With no reason to ignore his own needs, Waylon gave in and started to fill his plate with food. It’s not like pride was important to him.

When Waylon was starting to feel stuffed he finally looked up. A chill ran through him and he struggled to swallow back down the bile rising and burning in his throat. He was now alone with Nikolas, Rowan, and Ren nowhere to be seen.

Nikolas was smiling, “Satisfied?”

Waylon glanced down at the food still on his plate. Then pushed the plate away with one finger, nodding and feeling suddenly disgusted.

“Good.” Nikolas said tersely, standing up. Waylon winced at the sharp sound of his chair scraping on the floor. “Follow me.”

Waylon didn’t move at first, only getting up once Nikolas had passed through the door. He was scared to follow him, but even more terrified not to.

Waylon jogged after Nikolas, chasing after the sound of his heels up stairs and down hallways, never catching up even though Nikolas’s footsteps never more rapid than a leisurely stroll. Waylon followed those footsteps until they stopped and Wayon was in a hallway full of closed doors. Waylon stopped and fidgeted with the knot of the sheet on his waist before calling out, “Hello?”

No response came and the doors stayed closed. Biting the inside of his bottom lip, Waylon started trying doors. One after the other, none of the door knobs turned. Taking in a deep, preparatory breath, he pushed the door open.

Unfortunately, Nikolas was on the other side. Waylon took a quick glance around the room, surprised it wasn’t Nikolas’s room that he had woken up in before, though he remembered that room wasn’t so far from the stairs… The room was much emptier, no wardrobe, no creepy dolls. Just a bed with no pillows and simple sheets and Nikolas sitting on the edge, his legs crossed and his chin in his hands, “Took you long enough.” Nikolas said without moving.

“You walk fast.” Waylon gave his excuse without pausing to consider whether it was smart.

Nikolas uncrossed his legs and stood. He had kicked off his heels, so his footsteps were silent as he stalked towards Waylon, wearing his soft unsettling smile. Waylon backed away, unwittingly backing out of the room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nikolas tilted his head to the side, smile not leaving his mouth…

Then Nikolas’s fist connected with Waylon’s abdomen. All of the breath in his lungs wooshed out and he doubled over. The pain hit him a moment later and his knees went weak, he swallowed down the dinner that threatened to come back up. Nikolas grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him back into the room, slamming the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Fear jolted up Waylon’s spine at the sound of the door slamming behind him. Cut off completely, escape was impossible. Waylon’s eyes drifted to Nikolas’ neck once more but they didn’t linger there. He couldn’t muster the desire to kill at all. So instead, he sat back on his heels and stared up at Nikolas, resigned to his fate.

Nikolas seemed to know just what Waylon was thinking. His lips were pulled up in a taunting smile and leaned over Waylon’s kneeling form, tapping the tip button of his high-collared shirt, “Help me with this?” he asked, his voice full of sadistic mirth.

Waylon brought his shaking hands up to Nikolas neck. His fingers accidentally brushed ice cold skin as he undid the top button. Waylon expected to see ugly, purple bruises from when he choked him earlier but Nikolas’ skin was an unblemished, ivory white.

Waylon’s hands traveled down, unbuttoning each button.  _ Why is he having me undress? Wasn’t I brought here to be punished? He was naked when he whipped Ren, is he going to whip me? Why must he be naked to whip me? Does he get some sick sexual pleasure from it? _

The last button came undone and Waylon dropped his hands to his side. Nikolas shrugged off his shirt and tossed it to the corner, revealing his soft, pale skin. He didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat or muscle on his body, almost looking perfectly like a doll, if it weren’t for the two crescent scars on his chest.

Nikolas slid off his shorts and threw them into the corner, standing before Waylon completely bare. Nikolas took a step toward him and Waylon tried to back away, but Nikolas’ hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of his blonde hair. Nikolas pulled his head back, forcing Waylon to look up at him. “Are you afraid?” he asked, his words slow and deliberate. Waylon couldn’t help but focus on his lips. Small, pink, and pursed, curving up at the corners.

Nikolas' grip was slack enough that Waylon could nod, his mouth too dry to speak.

Nikolas’ lips curled higher, into his soft, terrifying smile. “Good… Unfortunately, I still have to hurt you.” Nikolas released Wayon’s golden locks, his hand trailing down to caress his cheek. Waylon continued to stare up at Nikolas, unsure of what to expect, trembling under his fingers. Nikolas pulled his hand back and struck Waylon. Hard enough to fill his vision with stars and his hearing with ringing bells. Waylon’s head snapped to the side and tears sprung to his soft, blue eyes.

When the burning sting dulled to a tingling, Waylon looked back up to see that Nikolas had walked over to the black nightstand, pulling a coiled whip out of its drawer, coming back towards Waylon. Waylon forced himself to keep eye contact with Nikolas’ mismatched eyes. For quite a few seconds, the two held each other’s gaze, completely still.

Then Nikolas lashed out with the whip, drawing a bright red line of blood across Waylon’s chest. Waylon couldn’t stop his cry of pain, or stop himself from curling up, clutching at the wound, catching the drops of his blood.

The whip hit again, carving a line on Waylon’s cheek. “Straighten up!” Nikolas barked.

Waylon unbent his spin, bottom lip quivering. “Good boy.” Nikolas said with a smile and another strike of the whip across his stomach.

“Perhaps, that’s enough of that for now.”


	7. Chapter 7

Waylon flinched when the whip fell to the ground. The bed creaked as Nikolas sat down, “Waylon. Eyes. On. Me.” Waylon’s eyes traveled up his porcelain legs, crossed at the knee, and up to his slightly flushed cheeks. “Come closer.” Waylon twitched at the command and suddenly sensation came crashing back to him. His knees ached and he could feel every grain of the wood against his shins. The wounds from the lashes were stinging and blood dripped from the one on his cheek into his lap. His throat burned. When he didn’t move, Nikolas called his name again, his voice sing-songy but his face was scrunched up in an ugly way.

Waylon swallowed the saliva that was not actually there and crawled forward on his knees until he was close enough that he would only have to lean forward slightly to press his lips to Nikolas’s knee.

Nikolas uncrossed his legs. Opening his legs and filling Waylon’s eyes with the sight of his clean shaven vagina. Nikolas tapped the top of Waylon’s head and commanded, “lick.”

Waylon’s poor gay brain short-circuited. Was this supposed to be his punishment? Or just relieving Nikolas of his twisted arousal? What would happen if he ‘failed’? He’d never even seen a vagina before let alone touched one. Waylon took a deep breath, leaned forward, and tentatively licked the pink folds.

Even this intimate part of Nikolas was as cold as the rest of him. Cold like a doll. Like a corpse. Waylon was sure vaginas were supposed to smell and taste different from this. But all Nikolas tasted like was the floral soap that clung to his soft, pale skin.

Nikolas’s legs came up and rested on Waylon’s shoulders and one of his hands fisted in Waylon’s hair, pulling him in closer. “Try a little harder, Waylon.”

Internally, Waylon braced himself and pressed his tongue to the opening and licked with as much pressure as he could muster. He repeated the motion a few times, changed angles, changed motions, tried again, but nothing he did seemed to elicit any reactions from Nikolas. After a too long, too drawn out minute, Nikolas yanked hard on Waylon’s blond wavy hair, pulling him away. “Useless! Pathetic!” Waylon was thrown away slightly then Nikolas’s leg whipped out and his foot connected with Waylon’s jaw, sending him sprawling. “Get out of my sight!”

Waylon scrambled to his feet, stumbling to the door as fast as he could. He only made it a few feet down the hall before a hard wave of nausea hit him and he lost his dinner on the floor. He made it a few feet more before his shaky legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees, spreading apart until he butt touched the ground. Slumping against the wall, he let his eyes fall close.

After a few minutes of preparing to accept his imminent death, he felt the touch of a warm hand on his cheek, brushing away the dried blood. Waylon leaned into Rowan’s touch, and he was sure it was Rowan because she was the only warm person he’d met in the house. Her warmth enveloped him and he felt himself being lifted into her arms. He nuzzled against her soft chest, smelling mint on her skin, unable to force his eyes open.


	8. Chapter 8

Waylon wasn’t sure how much time he spent in Rowan’s arms, of pretending unconsciousness, his face nestled in her breasts, cheek pressed against soft fabric. She hummed as she cleaned each of his cuts slowly and gently, bandaging each of them. She carried him, as if he weighed nothing, to a bed. He couldn’t help a little thrill of excitement at the thought that maybe it was her bed. She wrapped him in a blanket, laying him across her lap, humming the whole time. She stroked her hands through his hair, her fingers seeming to move with the tune of the song she hummed. Feeling relaxed and cared for, Waylon fell asleep quickly.

*

Waylon woke up an unknown amount of time later to the feeling of a hand on his?… his…!

Waylon forced his eyes open, the haziness on his mind vanishing completely. He looked down to see Rowan’s tan and slender hand wrapped around his penis, stroking him up and down as gently and carefully as she had cleaned and bandaged his wounds. “R-Rowan, what are you-” Waylon looked up and his words caught in his throat when he saw Rowan smiling down at him softly, her eyes curved into gentle crescent moons.

He was still laying in her lap. The hand of hers that wasn’t stroking him was under his shoulders, supporting him and almost pressing him into her chest.

She started pumping faster, her grip tightening a little. Arousal caught up to Waylon. He buried his face in her chest, panting and losing his will to question. His hips started to buck up into her hand.

“Impatient.” She scolded in a light tone. Waylon whined in the back of his throat but tried to keep still even as she wiped her thumb over the slit, wiping away a bead of precum.

It didn’t take much longer for Waylon to cum with a cry, spilling into Rowan’s hand. Waylon turned his head, cheek still smooshed against her silken dress, looking at her face. Rowan stared down at her own hand, “You didn’t get to cum when you were with Nikolas earlier, did you?” Mouth dry, Waylon only nodded in response.

Glancing down at Waylon laying in her lap and brought her hand to her mouth, before darting out her tongue to lick her palm.

Waylon shot up into a seated position, “Wait stop, that’s -!” Before Waylon could finish getting his words out, Rowan had swallowed and was pressing a finger to his lips. She cocked her head to the side and smiled, “Would you like me to get you something to eat?”

After a brief, confused pause, Waylon nodded.

“Alright, I’ll bring you something, sit tight.”


	9. Chapter 9

Even when Rowan stepped out of the room Waylon’s heart refused to stop its loud, rapid pounding. Head hot, face burning red, he pulled the blanket she had thrown over him up over his head and curled up, hugging his knees to his chest. She was so soft and sweet, her smile gentle, her voice soothing… and her hand. He rolled back and forth under the sheet. Nobody had ever touched him like that before.

The image of Roman licking his cum off her hand flashed through Waylon’s mind and his spent dick twitched in interest. He smacked both hands to his face, which was burning hotter than ever before. Waylong dragged his hands down his face and sighed, “I’d rather be her slave than Nikolas’…”

When Waylon realized what he just said and the weight of his situation came crashing back down on him he jolted upright, flailing his arms to pull the sheet off his head. He glanced around the room quickly. It was almost the same as his, white and baby pink everywhere, but there was one important difference; a set of french doors.

Waylon balled up the sheet and tossed it to the side, before sliding off the bed and lightly but quickly jogging to the window. The glass was frosted but he could see sunlight coming in. His fingers had barely alighted on the latch when Rowan’s voice came from behind him, “You won’t get very far.” Waylon jumped and whirled around, pressing his back against the cold glass. Rowan stood in the doorway, a tray in her hands, her face twisted with pity and concern, “You can go on the balcony if you want, even out in the yard. Just don’t go past the fence, it’ll hurt,” her lip quivered and she averted her gaze briefly, “trust me.”

Waylon watched as Rowan walked into the room and set the tray down on the bed before sitting down. She beckoned Waylon closer, “I have some water and fresh fruit, doesn’t that sound good?” She patted the bed.

Waylon glanced over his shoulder at the french doors behind. He cleared his throat, “You said there’s a balcony on the other side of these doors.” With a neutral expression Rowan nodded. Waylon swallowed, “Can we eat on the balcony?”

Rowan tilted her head and a gentle smile took over her face, melting the tension from Waylon’s shoulders. “Of course.”

Waylon breathed a sigh of relief and turned, unlatching the doors. They swung open easily and for a moment Waylon was blinded by the bright sunlight. As he took a few shuffling steps forward, he realized how dim the lights were in the mansion for the sun to hurt this much. He forced his eyes open, blinking away tears as they watered. The balcony was bigger than he expected, with a small table and two matching tables. Waylon stumbled over his own feet as he moved to pull out the chair. He collapsed in the small, white-painted wire chair, only remembering his nakedness when he felt the hot, sun-baked metal on his bare butt. He only spared a single thought to being embarrassed and decided it wasn’t quite worth the energy anymore. He learned against the stone railing of the balcony and cast a glance at the lush green yard and rose bushes. The fence Rowan mentioned was only a simple, black one with no barbed wire and nothing to suggest electrification… So what hurt?

Rowan sat the tray on the table and took a seat across from Waylon, “Please,” She gestured at the tray.

Waylon ate and drank slowly as Rowan made attempts at small talk. The more he sat in front of her naked the more nervous he felt and he found himself red-faced and stupidly blabbering on about his cats and dog. He even went so far as to reach for his phone to show her pictures only to remember that he didn’t even have clothes or pockets to be storing his phone in, let alone his phone.

When the fruit was almost gone, a light knock sounded at the open french doors. Ren stood at the door, hands held loosely at their sides, expression neutral, “Master wants to see you in his room. He has a present for you, Waylon.”


	10. Chapter 10

Waylon stared intently at Ren’s back as he followed them through the winding hallways. He could see the outline of angry, red wounds through the sheer material of Ren’s shirt.

“So, uh, what is the ‘present’? I’d like a bit of, ” I cleared my throat, “warning.”

“You’ll like it. I promise.” Ren replied, their voice even and quick. And not reassuring in the least.

Waylon didn’t trust that he would like anything Nikolas had to give him and while Ren didn’t seem to be malicious but their thinking was definitely skewed.

Without a warning, Ren stopped in front of a door. Waylon had to go on his toes and wheel his arms to keep himself from falling into Ren. Ren glanced up at Waylon through their long, dark lashes. “Nikolas is in your room with the present.” They stepped to the side of the door, folding their hands behind their back, their head cocked to the side.

Waylon didn’t budge. Ren blinked twice and gestured for the door, “go ahead.”

Waylon sighed and took a deep breath. He put a hand on the door knob and out of the corner of his eye he saw Ren give a little wave and turned to leave.

Waylon breathed deeply again, heart pounding in his ears as he tightened his grip on the knob and turned it. Head down, Waylon stepped into the room. Before he could close the door, a large furry weight crashed into knocking him over. Waylon got a single moment to see his dog, Tulip sitting on his chest before she started licking his face. He laughed, “Tulip! How…?” Waylon held her head in both his hands, scratching her ears, “How did you get here?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.” A cold, mocking voice answered Waylon’s question.

He glanced up to see Nikolas sitting, legs crossed, in a chair placed in front of the bed.

On his lap was Waylon’s older cat Blue. He stroked her slowly, smiling down at Waylon, his chin tilted upward, eyes narrowed. He slowly tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing even further until he was practically squinting. Waylon sat up, Tulip jumping off him. He kept his hand on her head. From beside him, Waylon heard a small squeaky meow and his much younger sphinx cat, Belle, headbutted his hip. Waylon put a hand on her head, “Why did you bring them here?”

Nikolas uncrossed his legs and stood. Blue’s dark fur stood out starkly against his white shirt and the pale skin of his arms, “I brought them here cause they’d die all alone in your apartment.” Nikolas’s doll-like features scrunched up in anger, “So maybe there is something else you should be saying?” Blue squirmed in his arms. He tightened his grip on her until she hissed and scratched, but he still didn’t let go.

Waylon bit the inside of his bottom lip, “…Thank you…”

Nikolas smiled too big and unnatural, eyes turning into small crescents. “Good boy. You’re welcome.” Nikolas let Blue jump out of his arms and she bolted away from him and hid under the bed, still hissing. “They’ll be well-fed and taken care of,” Nikolas strode forward and Waylon winced at the sound of his heels on the floor. “And you’ll even get to see them once in a while!” Nikolas lifted his leg and dug a heel into Waylon’s shoulder, leaning forward and taking Waylon’s face in his ice-cold hands. “As long as you remain a good, obedient boy.”


	11. Chapter 11

Waylon kept his eyes locked with Nikolas’s icy blue ones, ignoring the slight pain from the heel digging into his shoulder. Nikolas’s smirk grew bigger, a gleeful glint in his eyes. He removed his heel from Waylon’s shoulder and held Waylon’s face in both of his inhumanly cold hands. “I really like that look on your face.” Nikolas said, excitement creeping into his voice, his pale cheeks turning a rosy pink. “No defiance, just acceptance and submission. It makes you so much cuter.” Nikolas caressed Waylon’s cheek and Waylon suppressed a shiver. While Waylon kept any fear or discomfort off his face, Tulip seemed to sense it and began growling at Nikolas.

Nikolas’s face dropped into cold annoyance and he slowly turned his gaze away from Waylon to glare at Tulip. His hands fell away from Waylon’s face, twitching. He turned towards Tulip, eyes wide and harsh. He raised a hand…

Waylon threw his arms around Tulip’s neck and pulled her in close to his chest, “Shh… it’s okay, girl.” he whispered, dropping kisses on the top of her head, trying to calm her down.

Nikolas’s lip curled up in a sneer but then he sighed and shook his head. Nikolas put a hand on Waylon’s bare shoulder, leaning in close enough to whisper in Waylon’s ear, “Enjoy your free time, it won’t last long.” As he walked past, he let his ice cold fingers linger on Waylon’s skin.

The door behind Waylon opened and closed and Waylon was left alone in ‘his’ room. Waylon relaxed with a sigh and pet Tulip, “That was a little scawy, wasn’t it? But I won’t let anything happen to you, I pwomise.” Waylon hugged Tulip again as she licked his face.

*

Nikolas marched down the hall with strides longer than one would expect of a person as small as him. An amused voice called out to him, stopping him in his tracks, “Surprisingly kind of you, Nikolas.”

Rolling his eyes, Nikolas turned to face Rowan. She leaned against a wall, smiling at him. Nikolas crossed his arms and pouted, “What do you know?”

Rowan shrugged and took a step forward, “Nothing really… But you seem to like Waylon. Can’t imagine exactly why… I don’t have to worry about being replaced, do I?” She tilted her head to the side, eyebrows knitting together in exaggerated worry and she reached a hand out to touch Nikolas’s cheek.

Nikolas took her hand in both of his icy hands, sapping her warmth, “You don’t have anything to worry about as long as you are a good girl.” Still clinging to her hand, Nikolas started to walk again, pulling Rowan along behind him.

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

With knees on either side of Rowan’s head, Nikolas grinded against her tongue. Rowan held onto Nikolas’s slender waits, guiding his hips the way she wanted them to move. Nikolas threaded his fingers through Rowan’s dark brown waves and pulled, dragging a grunt out of her. In retaliation, Rowan twirled her tongue around his clit before gently taking it between her teeth.

Nikolas came with a cry, letting his weight settle into her hands as his knees got weak. He swung a leg over and plopped down on the bed. He stood but before he could step away Rowan grabbed his wrist and tugged him back to her. Nikolas fell back onto the bed. Rowan wrapped her arms around him, pulling him onto her lap. “What are you doing?” Nikolas snapped, squirming.

Rowan nuzzled into Nikolas’s silky black hair, “I did good, didn’t I? Can’t I have some cuddles as a reward?”

Nikolas puffed his cheeks out, and crossed his arms over his chest, “Fine.”

Being over a foot shorter than Rowan with a slighter frame, Nikolas fit easily against her, completely surrounded by her warm embrace. After a few minutes Nikolas relaxed, his shoulders untensing. He laid his cheek against her breasts, briefly rubbing his cheek against the soft material of her thin, white dress. His eyes slowly drifted shut while she pet his hair with one hand and stroked his back with the other. Soon, Nikolas was asleep in Rowan’s lap. She dropped a kiss on his forehead and subconsciously he snuggled closer. “If you want to keep Waylon a little longer than the last one than you need to learn to take better care of your toys, my little lordling.”

*

Waylon play fought with Tulip, letting her chase him around the room and even play tug of war with the bedsheet he had turned into a makeshift skirt. Belle played along too, batting at the dangling corner of Waylon’s bedsheet and pounced on Tulip’s excited tail. Finally Waylon tired himself and Tulip out, slumping against the footboard of the bed.

The old lady Blue came out of her hiding place, crawling into his lap. He had draped the bedsheet over his crotch and thighs, not bothering to tie it back around his waist. Waylon could hear the vibrations of Blue’s purring as she pressed against his bare abdomen. He picked her up, cuddling her to his chest, kissing the top of her head while scratching around her ears. 

But happiness is fleeting. Without a knock, the door opened. Waylon startled and tensed but relaxed a little when he saw it was Ren and not Nikolas. Ren took a step into the room and slid to the side, folding their hands behind their back. After them three tall but hunched over figures without faces shuffled in. Waylon clutched Blue tighter, putting one hand on Tulip beside him protectively. His feet kicked, sliding across the floor with just enough purchase to push him into the bed.

“Don’t worry, they’re helpers. They won’t hurt you or the animals.” As Ren spoke in their cold, even voice. one of the ‘helpers’ reached fore Belle. Waylon let Blue and Tulip go to swat away its pale, long-fingered hands. “Waylon, you must let them take the animals. Your time with them is done for today.”

Waylon stopped fighting for a moment, looking over at Ren with wide eyes. And then one of the ‘helpers’ picked up Tulip. From his seated position, Waylon lunged for Tulip, not caring when the bedsheet fell away. The ‘helper’ was easily knocked down with a solid shove. Tulip squiremed out of its arms and bolted for the corner. Realizing how easy the faceless ‘helpers’ were to take down, Waylon went after the one that held Belle and was already halfway to the door. Before Waylon could reach it, Ren stepped in front of him, stopping him with an ice-cold hand on the center of his chest. Not wanting to hurt Ren, Waylon stopped. “If you don’t let the helpers take them now, you won’t be allowed to see them again.” After a beat of silence, they added, “if you stop resisting now, I’ll tell Nikolas you were good.”

Waylon’s shoulders slumped and he took a few steps back, clenching his fists as the helpers carried Tulip, Blue, and Belle away. Tulip whined and Waylon squeezed his eyes shut, fists shaking.

Then the door shut. Cold hands touched both of Waylon’s cheeks. He opened his eyes, head still tilted down, and met Ren’s black, empty,  _ dead _ eyes and wondered just how different from those faceless helpers is Ren.


End file.
